He had always liked her pink nail polish. It made her look feminine in spite of the cold mask she wore. He had heard stories about how she cut through people's weakness mercilessly. People stayed out of her way. Yet, he was intrigued. He had a theory that women were generally born soft and remained so until someone screwed up in their life. He badly wanted to know who screwed up in hers.
She had scrubbed her nails on Sunday and found that she was out of pink nail polish on Monday morning. She had to give a presentation and had to rush with unpainted nails. In the evening, she found a bottle of pink nail polish with a note - 'To My Pink Clawed Tigress'. Her eyes clouded and memories came flashing back.
She was cowering in terror in the corner as her father went on a rampage around the house, collecting everything pink and piling it up in the back yard. He had pulled apart her favorite doll while her mom stood near him, pleading him to stop. Her father gave a harsh sneer and lit up the pile. 'All she can do is wear a pink nail polish and dress up like this doll. This is why I wanted a son !'. His words hit her more than his actions.
Now fifteen years later, she ran her father's firm as tight as a ship. At 25, she was the youngest chairman of the board, yet the most feared. Her father had long passed away two years ago and she made it a point to wear a pink nail polish every day since she took over her father's firm.
She was furious. She knew exactly from whom the note was.
To be Continued..
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